


Unexpected Revelations

by mandykaysfic



Category: Famous Five - Enid Blyton, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Blyton kids die off-screen, Family Secrets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard knew of no reason why an English law firm should contact him. He didn't expect to hear what Dick Kirrin had to tell him.<br/>Set at the end of S4 episode 'Outcast'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 'Into a Bar' 2015 and finally finished.

"Welcome to Rinaldo's. Your name, Sir?" enquired the maitre d' as he scanned the guest list.

"John Sheppard. I'm meeting someone." His dark blue suit gave no hint of his military status; his business was purely personal. "Mr Richard Kirrin."

John had no need to check the name on the letter currently in the inside pocket of his jacket; the words requesting he meet with Mr Kirrin, who would provide him with information regarding his mother, were etched in his mind. His father's funeral and the Replicator threat hadn't left him with time to do more than check that the law firm printed on the letterhead was genuine. He probably should have investigated Kirrin more thoroughly, but it was too late now.

"Certainly. If you would follow me." The man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Major Lorne, John's second-in-command, led him to a table near the back of the large dining room.

A man of around his father's age stood and held out his hand. "Colonel Sheppard, I presume. I'm Richard Kirrin."

"John Sheppard," he acknowledged. 

Somehow, Kirrin's handshake felt as British as his accent, and again John wondered what an English law firm had to do with anything regarding his family. William John Sheppard made no secret of the fact he'd thoroughly investigated the family tree of Patricia Margaret Winchester before allowing her to wed his only son, Patrick. To John's annoyance, his grandfather had also checked Nancy's lineage as soon as he'd learned of their engagement. His approval of her heritage had been a bonus, although John hadn't cared in the least her however-many-greats grandfather was an early Pilgrim when he'd proposed.

He was not pleased when Richard refused to discuss business until they'd eaten, but John soon forgot his frustration as Richard proved to be a raconteur of the first order. Rogue replicators and the stuff he couldn't talk about faded from his thoughts as he was regaled with tales of Tiger Dan and Lou the acrobat, Dirty Dick and the Saucy Jane, Jo the gypsy girl and a monkey named Mischief.

"So there we were. The teenagers that solved mysteries, broke up smuggling rings, captured escaped criminals and, of course, found buried treasure. We became known as the Famous Five. Julian, Dick and Anne, George and Timmy the dog. You know, the papers always referred to us in that order. In hind sight, I suppose it made sense, Julian being the eldest and George being a cousin, not a sibling, but George frequently objected, especially the times when she'd been the one to find the vital clue."

"Your parents were okay with the four of you roaming the countryside by yourselves?"

"Different times, John," said Dick, shaking his head. "Different times. We had Timmy. And Julian. The responsible one." He speared a piece of potato on his fork and inspected it before putting it into his mouth. As he chewed, a pensive expression settled over his features. 

"I always think food tastes so much nicer outdoors," he said suddenly. "She said it, practically every time. After a while, any time she started with I always think, the rest of us joined in to finish, food always tastes so much nicer outdoors." He singsonged the last phrase, plainly travelling down memory lane.

"Who said it?" John asked when Dick remained silent. "Anne or George?" he prompted.

"Oh, that was Anne, of course."

John mentally catalogued this use of the past tense, the sudden tightening of Dick's lips and the rapid blinking of his eyes. His gut told him this had something to do with the reason he'd been contacted, but the conversation so far had given him no clue. He raised his eyebrows, inviting Dick to continue.

For a long moment, they held each other's gaze. Meticulously, Dick placed his knife and fork together in the centre of his plate, dabbed his mouth with his linen napkin and refilled their wine glasses. They waited in silence while the waiter removed their plates.

"Dick...." John paused, and then decided he'd waited long enough, took the letter from his jacket pocket. "My mother...."

"You have your mother's eyes."

That was the last thing John expected to hear.

Richard raised his hand. "I apologise, but sitting across from you...it's been like looking into Patty's eyes once more. Yes, John, I knew your mother." He shifted uncomfortably. "Before I go any further, you need to know I only found out what I'm going to tell you a month ago. Had I known.... Please, remember that, and hear me out before you say anything."

"Okay, I can do that," agreed John cautiously. In his experience, conversations beginning with those types of phrases usually didn't turn out well.

"I'll get to your mother in a minute. You should hear how things happened in the order they did, to help you understand.

"I told you quite a few of our youthful adventures, but you may have wondered why I haven't mentioned any current exploits." He sighed. "The Famous Five haven't been five for a long time. Timmy, well, no need to explain. Dogs, shorter life spans and all that, not to mention a case of poisoning. Tim Junior and Timmy the third are also long gone. As for the human members - Julian had his heart set on being in the Secret Service. He joined the Police Force, straight out of school. Three years later, he was shot in the back during a stakeout." Dick pulled a face and then swore. "By his partner. An accident, Peter said. An accident!"

John ran his hand through his hair, rather surprised at the expletive which escaped Dick's lips. His eyes narrowed as he catalogued Dick's body language. "You don't believe that," he said.

"They were rivals from the day they met. Everyone thought they were friends. They had so much in common. Peter was also a member of a teenage crime solving gang. The Secret Seven, they called themselves." Dick snorted. "Of course, Peter certainly did his best to give the impression they were the best of friends, but he came second to Ju in everything. Everything! We solved more mysteries, caught more international jewel thieves, more smugglers, more kidnappers, and naturally, Ju headed all the class lists."

John badly wanted to laugh. It was obvious Dick believed in the superiority of the Famous Five and of his brother. Surreptitiously, he pinched himself and focused on Dick's words. He didn't want to miss the slightest reference to his mother.

"Peter was jealous, and Ju never saw it. They were in line for the same promotion again, and this one hinged on who was most responsible for the capture of the Smedley Gang. The investigation into what really happened...Julian would never have moved into Peter's line of fire. There was something fishy about the whole thing."

Dick ran his hand through his hair. "I even hired a private investigator. Frederick Trotteville, reputedly better than Sherlock Holmes, was unable to prove Peter's guilt beyond reasonable doubt. Peter got the promotion, and we lost our brother and cousin.

"After that, George surprised us all," continued Dick, after refilling his wine glass; John had stuck to his practice of drinking very little in situations where he might need all of his wits about him and his glass was two-thirds full.

"At eighteen, she threw herself into the sciences and ended up studying chemistry. She met this girl, Nora Arnold. You may remember reading about Captain and Mrs Arnold. They used to test new planes. Got themselves connected with King Paul of Baronia, one of those small Ruritarian countries," he explained, saving John from asking. "Prince Paul, he was back then. The Arnold kids saved him from being kidnapped a couple of times."

John returned Dick's grin. "Don't tell me...another group of teenage crimebusters." He motioned for Dick to continue.

"Of course! The captain and his wife went down over Africa, in the forties and ended up almost sacrificed to some ancient gods."

That story, John did remember. Mrs Arnold had been touted as the next Amelia Earhart.

"Nora was their youngest. She's gone too, now. Anyway, Nora and her family had something to do with pointing the authorities in the direction of some illegal manufacture of a compound that apparently had similar properties to uranium. George told us that was what inspired Nora's interest in chemistry. To cut a long story short, it was something from which Uncle Quentin's research into unlimited energy would benefit, and George took it, and Nora, up with a vengeance. The three of them would insist on doing some of the top secret," Dick made air quotes, "experiments in Uncle's laboratory. One day there was an unfortunate accident. George was twenty-five."

He waved aside John's awkward condolences. "It was a long time ago. Our parents went to Australia and Anne moved in to Kirrin Cottage to be with Aunt Fanny. She hadn't been there two weeks when Aunt Fanny took off on an adventure of her own. She said she'd spent years looking after an absent-minded husband and wayward daughter, and that it was time she had some fun of her own. She packed a bag and took off on a motor-cycle. Every so often, Anne would get a postcard from some foreign country, so we knew she was all right.

"Anne ended up staying at Kirrin Cottage. She turned it into a charming bed-and-breakfast, mostly for birdwatchers. The guests were permitted to visit Kirrin Island. Alf, I think I told you he was the one who first kept Timmy for George, would row them over when the weather was fine. Anne then had the bright idea of charging extra for the guests to use the secret passage to get to the island. She was more than just a good housekeeper." He blinked rapidly; Dick had adored his little sister.

John crossed and uncrossed his arms. He was fairly certain he knew where this was leading.

"A party of four, two sets of brother and sister, wanted to spend a weekend reliving their childhood. The Mannerings and the Trents had had their own adventures, with circus characters, lost treasure and underground passages. Anne learned if we'd gone to Cornwall two years earlier, we might have crossed paths with them. Anyway, she met Lucy Trent on a Jane Austen tour, I believe it was. She loved taking literary tours, seeing the places mentioned in her favourite books. She and Lucy struck up a friendship after they roomed together on one occasion. They had a lot in common. Both were the youngest of families who had a knack for falling into adventure, and both preferred a quiet life. Between them, they decided it would be fun for Philip and Dinah Mannering, and Jack and Lucy Trent, to celebrate Philip's fortieth birthday with a holiday that would provide enough excitement to satisfy the other three by allowing them to re-enact their adventures using Kirrin Island, the castle and Kirrin Cottage, complete with secret passage, while being adventure-free for Lucy and Anne.

"All five of them, Anne having gone with them, were returning from Kirrin Island via the secret passage when it collapsed on top of them. It was ten days before anyone found them. Philip managed to tie a note to the leg of his latest pet - did I mention he was a vet? He specialised in small animals. Unfortunately, lizards aren't particularly fast or intelligent. Alf led the rescue party, but by the time they found them, it was too late."

This time John refilled Dick's wine glass.

"I blamed myself for not making sure the passage was safe. Guilt is a terrible thing, John. It eats at you, even when it's misplaced. I needed to do something, so when an opportunity to travel to America arose, I took it. Elbur, Berta's father, she's the girl who we had to disguise as a boy to prevent her being kidnapped, remember? Elbur invited me. He was looking to expand his business, and decided I would be the ideal person to run the English branch.

"After four weeks, we both knew I wouldn't be joining his company, but he and his wife persuaded me to stay an extra week or so to attend Berta's engagement party. I almost didn't stay, but I'm glad I did. You see, that was where I met someone special." Dick paused, and stared into John's eyes. "Patricia Margaret Winchester," he said, enunciating each syllable.

"My mother. That's when you met her."

Dick smiled reminiscently. "Patty, she insisted. Never Patricia."

John frowned. "Are you sure you have the correct person? My mother was always called Patricia. She wouldn't use Pat, because of Dad. Full names only, for both of them."

"Patty was...special.... That name was for the two of us, she insisted. She called me Ricky after I admitted no-one used that particular abbreviation. We were inseparable for five perfect days. If I could have stayed longer, I would have. We exchanged addresses, promising to keep in touch. I even bought a writing pad at the airport! Started a letter on the plane, too."

Dick's fond tone drew a smile from John, but something tugged at the back of his mind. He let Dick's words flow over him while he waited for the memory to surface.

"Aunt Fanny knew. Almost the minute she set eyes on me - she'd come home for Anne's funeral - she knew I'd met someone. She plagued me for details of Patty and I was delighted to tell her all about Patty's long, dark hair, her sparkling hazel eyes, and how when she smiled, you couldn't help smiling in return."

His mother's smile was one of the things John remembered best about her. Her smile, her collection of cat ornaments, and her letters. That was what had teased his memory; his mother had kept every letter ever written to her, and John knew for a fact not one of them had been from Richard, Dick, or Ricky Kirrin. 

On a rare visit home some years ago, he'd been searching for something, he no longer remembered what, when he'd found them. He examined birthday cards and letters from her grandparents, postcards from girlfriends, and read rejection letters from publishers, (although there had been no sign of the stories she'd submitted). Once he'd started, he couldn't seem to stop. There had been several boyfriends before his father had appeared on the scene. A large number of Valentines cards bore testament to her popularity, while seventeen year old Robert Thomas had written several poems, including an ode to her eyes, most of which had apparently been liberally lifted from another source, according to the comments in the margins, written in his mother's neat handwriting. He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again as Dick continued.

"I'd been home two days when the news of Father's accident reached me. I left for Australia on the next available flight. Don't ever let a kangaroo's appearance fool you, John. They kick like bad tempered mules. I ended up staying to help Mother run the farm.

"Within a week of my going, Aunt Fanny closed Kirrin Cottage and resumed her travels. Over the years she visited much of Europe, parts of Asia, America, Canada, the South Sea Islands, and eventually she arrived in Australia. Much to my relief, she convinced Mother to sell the farm and return to England, after first cruising around the Greek Islands. Mother had a wonderful time with Aunt Fanny. Until, well, you remember the tragedy of Flight 421 last year?"

John tried to look as though he knew what Dick was talking about, but not everything that happened on Earth was relayed to those in the Pegasus galaxy.

"Er, coffee?" he suggested hurriedly when Dick reached for the wine bottle again.

"Coffee," agreed Dick after a moment. "After seeing Aunt Fanny's remains interred in the family plot, I took Mother's ashes to Australia. She wanted to be with Father. And then it was back to Kirrin Cottage."

The drawn out curse was heartfelt for all its low volume. "You have no idea, John. Instead of having the post office redirect the mail, Aunt Fanny had apparently arranged for one of the neighbours to collect it and leave anything addressed to her in the cottage. Letters for anyone else, namely me, were supposed to be forwarded. It would seem the address Aunt Fanny had given them was incorrect, so when the first few were returned 'not known at this address', old Tilda put them with others."

With considerable effort, John refrained from leaning forward and demanding Dick get to the point. He could see the older man was struggling to find the right words for whatever he was about to reveal.

"I didn't know until a month ago, when I opened one of the last boxes to be sorted, only to find letters addressed to me. They went back years. Amongst the school reunion notices, invitations to weddings and Reader's Digest special offers were a bundle of airmail letters sent from America. My Patty had written to me, and not once or twice like I had, but a dozen times." Dick flushed. "When I didn't hear from her, I stopped writing. I never expected to stay in Australia for as long as I did, and I never got around to telling her to write to me at the farm rather than Kirrin Cottage.

"Wherever she'd written her name on the envelopes, the 'i' in Winchester had been dotted with a tiny heart. When I saw that, I felt, well, I knew I had to read them on Kirrin Island. I would have gone then and there, but the sun was setting and I had to wait until the next day. Ralph, Alf's son, let me use his boat."

John stared at Dick, cataloguing the man's features, searching for something familiar, and feeling his stomach knot.

"As I read the words, I heard her voice telling me how much she missed me. How she was going to save up and come to England. The next time she wrote of a family friend, Patrick Sheppard, who'd returned from New York and asked her out, that she'd been unable to say no, and that she knew I'd understand. It was only dinner and a movie. Then there were a few lines on a card - she'd been ill. Food poisoning, she thought. Except it wasn't.

"John...John, until that moment, I believed I was the only surviving member of the Kirrin family. I had no idea Patty was pregnant. I would have returned to America and married her at once. I loved her. She wrote again, less than a week later, begging me to come at once. In the next letter, Patrick had saved her reputation and married her. A whirlwind romance, they told everyone. They were lucky their newborn son was tiny, barely five pounds so they could keep up the fiction that their honeymoon baby had arrived early."

The hand Dick reached across the table to John trembled. John didn't know whether to take hold of it; he didn't know whether he even wanted to. 

He cleared his throat. "Er...um...," he mumbled. He had absolutely no idea what to say.

"John, I am your father."

John stared at Dick's hand, suddenly feeling absurdly grateful his parents hadn't named him Luke as Darth Vader's famous sentence echoed in his mind. He missed whatever Dick said next, until the words paternity test sparked his full attention. The ramifications of a positive test were greater than Dick could have imagined. None of the Sheppards or the Winchesters had any evidence of the ATA gene in their genome, but what if the Kirrins did?

"…I'll undergo the test if you need proof. Of course, you have a couple of unmistakable Kirrin family traits. We all need more than a little dab of Brylcreem. Uncle Quentin could have made a fortune if he'd concentrated on developing hair products." 

They grinned sheepishly at one another as they each ran a hand through their hair in an almost identical fashion. 

Then turning his head, Dick held back his hair and gave John a clear view of his right ear. "They called me Elf at school. All the Kirrins have pointy-tipped ears, you know. 

"John, I appreciate this has come as a shock." Richard's voice lost the humorous tone. He retrieved a large envelope from the briefcase he'd kept beside his seat and laid it on the table. "In here you'll find the documents you'll need to verify what I've told you, along with copies of the deeds to Kirrin Cottage and Kirrin Island. There's also a copy of my will, naming you as sole beneficiary of the Kirrin estate."

"Dick…."

Dick held up his hand. "Don't say anything now, John. I'm staying at the Wellington for five more days. I'd—," his voice cracked. He swallowed, and then continued abruptly, "I understand you're busy, but if you do have any time, I'd like to see you again, before I leave."

"I…I can't make any promises." John picked up the envelope and then pushed back his chair. "I need to go now. Goodbye." His good manners deserted him and he left without shaking hands. 

John's head whirled as he headed back to Stargate Command. His parents had kept their secret well; he'd wondered whether they'd ever meant to tell him. He'd have to ask whether he'd been left any personal letters or papers. When he found himself making plans to ask his brother, he fingered the tips of his ears – Kirrin ears.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: 1. When 'Five on a Treasure Island' was published in 1942, Dick was 11, so born in 1931. John Sheppard's date of birth is given as June 14, 1970. Dick would therefore be 39. I made Patrick Sheppard's year of birth 1939, and John's mother three years younger (1942), so making her 11 years younger than Dick.  
> 2\. I have no immediate plans to write a sequel.


End file.
